


one look, and forever lay out in front of you

by orphan_account



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/F, it's 3 am i'm tired so i'm posting this, kiss prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 08:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The important thing to remember is that Sasha Banks is always right.





	one look, and forever lay out in front of you

**Author's Note:**

> This is once again from a prompt, and I'm sorry it took me so gorram long to write it.
> 
> The title is from "Your Song."
> 
> It took  
> One look  
> And forever lay out in front of you
> 
> One smile  
> Then I die  
> But it will be revived by you

Years later, Charlotte will look back at the start of  _ them _ and marvel at her awkwardness, at her hesitation, at her  _ cowardice _ . She will look back at be almost stunned at how she very nearly talked herself out of the best thing to ever happen to her, just because of a little fear.

*

A month into her stay at the WWE Performance Center, Charlotte Flair comes to the conclusion that the place was essentially a college dormitory, with all that implied. Of course there was that sense of camaraderie, of community, of fraternity. But there was also the overwhelming spirit of competition. There was backstabbing and gossip.

And there was sex. So much of it. So, so much.

She shouldn't have been surprised. Most of the wrestlers were at their physical primes, and highly attractive.  _ Of course _ it made sense for everyone to hook up with everyone else. 

Charlotte was careful. She turned down invitations to parties, turned down propositions from the male wrestlers who give her cheesy pick-up lines such as how they can certainly "do it with Flair." She even turns down propositions from some female wrestlers; it's not as if she hasn't experimented back in her college days, but she doesn't feel…  _ prepared _ to hook up with a woman at the moment.

She tells herself to focus on the task at hand. There is honestly so much that she needs to learn at the PC -- from the in-ring skills to the promos to the character work to the  _ gear _ . Learning about wrestling takes enough of her hours that she truly has no time to explore, as a lot of her fellow wrestlers are apparently doing. In the hours after their classes, she pores over YouTube videos and watches classic matches. At nights she is too tired to do anything but sleep.

"All work and no play makes Charlotte all wound up and frustrated," Sasha tells her one day, when she catches Charlotte wailing on a punching bag in the gym. Sasha is as dedicated, as hard working, and maybe even more talented than Charlotte is; she also has herself a girlfriend in Bayley. Charlotte is admittedly a little envious of how fast, how easily they seem to have found each other, even in the twisted puzzle of bodies and flesh that was the Performance Center.

"I'm not wound up, and I'm not frustrated," Charlotte says, though she immediately undercuts her words by unloading even more punches on the hapless bag. Sasha tilts her head to one side, curls her lip, and observes her for a couple more minutes.

After a while, her lip curl turns into a full-blown smirk. "Bay and I are going with the guys to a local club tonight," she informs Charlotte. "You're coming with us. No arguments, Baby Flair. You need it."

"Shut up, Sasha," Charlotte says, but there is no heat in her tone.

Besides Charlotte knows there's no point in truly arguing with her friend. There is, after all, a reason that Sasha has started to refer to herself as "The Boss."

*

Charlotte agrees to go to the club under one condition: Sasha will in no way try to hook her up with anyone from the PC. She already knows most of them, anyway, and while she finds a lot of them attractive, Charlotte still isn't tempted. She tells herself that she's going to the club to have a couple of drinks, maybe dance a little with Sasha and Bayley, and then go home.

There was no accounting for what actually happened when she got there.

*

"Please tell me you're having fun," Bayley says as she hands Charlotte a bottle of beer.

"I'm having fun, Bayley," Charlotte replies automatically. The other woman pouts, and Sasha laughs and then leans in to kiss her.

"Ignore her, Bay," Sasha tells her girlfriend. "I'm under strict orders not to hook her up with anyone, which completely defeats the purpose of us being here, by the way."

"It's not that I don't want to hook up with anyone," Charlotte shot back with a huff. "I just don't wanna… hook up with anyone from the PC. I don't know  _ how _ I can look at 'em in the eye the next day."

Sasha and Bayley both shrug. "We're all adults here, Charlotte," Sasha says, her voice patient. "You say hi and move on."

"Yeah, I mean, I think we all understand the arrangement," Bayley adds. "It's not serious until you both decide it's serious. Right, Sash?" 

"Damn right, babe," Sasha says, and then turns to give Bayley such a sappy, lovestruck look that Charlotte is compelled to roll her eyes. She puts down her bottle of beer and stands up, making enough noise to gain the attention of the couple in front of her.

"I'm gonna get a cocktail," she tells them. "You guys want anything?"

"I'm drunk on love," Sasha replies, and Charlotte groans. 

"Oh my god,  _ shut up _ , Sasha," Charlotte says, but as she walks away she has to smile. Seeing how Sasha and Bayley found each other was quite inspiring; it just so happens that she's not so sure she'll find the same kind of connection with any of the guys -- or girls -- currently at the Performance Center.

She realizes when she reaches the bar that she hasn't really thought of  _ what _ cocktail to order. Charlotte usually goes for a martini but something compels her to be more adventurous this night. 

"What do you suggest?" she asks the bartender when she's asked for her order.

Before the bartender can respond, however, a new voice pipes up from just beside her. "Wanna try an Irish cocktail?"

The voice is raspy but smooth, low but still distinctly feminine. Charlotte turns to look, and her jaw drops almost immediately. The woman sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, is gorgeous: soft wavy brown hair framing a face with a perfect nose and a jaw that could cut glass. But her eyes are soft, and clear; Charlotte feels like drowning, just a little.

"I mean, it's good," the woman says, raising her own glass. "But I s'pose you can try a good ol' mojito and be happy with it."

Charlotte bites her lip and sits next to the woman. She turns to look at the bartender, and nods. "I'll have what she's having," she says.

As the bartender prepares her drink, Charlotte takes a deep breath and steels herself. "I don't think I've seen you here before," she says, looking at the other woman curiously.

"I'm new in town," she responds. "Just arrived a couple of days ago from Dublin. This is actually my first night out in Orlando, and clearly I still have the luck of the Irish on my side." She smiles. "Nice to meet you, Miss…?"

"Oh!" She hopes the bar lights hide her blush. "Charlotte. Charlotte Flair."

"Rebecca, but my friends call me Becky." They shake hands, and laugh a little awkwardly at the notion. 

"Dublin, huh?" Charlotte says. "What brings you to Orlando, Becky?"

"I'm visiting a friend," Becky replies. "And then hopefully, chasing a dream after that."

"Sounds dramatic," Charlotte says. "And mysterious."

Becky just smiles and points as the bartender slides Charlotte's drink to her. "I'll have another," she says. 

Charlotte takes a sip of the cocktail and nods in approval. "Oh, you were right, it's good."

"Us Irish do know our whiskey."

One drink turns into two, into three, and before Charlotte knows it they're challenging the bartender to come up with as many Baileys-based cocktails as he possibly could. After five more drinks, Becky taps Charlotte on the arm, and points to something behind her.

"Huh?"

"I said, someone's looking for you."

Charlotte swiftly turns around -- a bad idea, her brain screams at her -- and sees Sasha with her hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised. "Hey, Sash," she says, her voice a little slurred.

"Having fun, Baby Flair?" Sasha said. This time, the smirk on her face was unmistakable. She leveled Becky with a look, and then said: "I assume you'll find your way back? Or do you wanna go back now?" 

Charlotte bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Fortunately, Becky was there to answer for her. 

"I can take her home," the Irish woman says.

"I'm sure you can."

"She's safe with me, don't worry."

"I'm sure she is."

There was something going on here, but Charlotte was a little too drunk to notice what it was, exactly. All that mattered was after a few moments, Sasha appeared to back down. She kissed Charlotte on the cheek, whispered "be careful," then waved as she left. Bayley, waiting for her at the door, looked concerned, but Sasha ushered her out without much issue.

"Is she your friend?" Becky asks as she helps Charlotte from her seat.

"Yeah," Charlotte answers. "Sorry, she's a little… judgy."

"I noticed that."

The bartender signals for the last call, and for the first time all night, Becky looks unsure. "I have a place nearby," she says. "I mean, if you just need a place to crash for the night, or…"

She trails off, and Charlotte pounces on her uncertainty. 

Later on she'll question her decision -- was it the alcohol? A sudden moment of bravery? A flash of insanity? Whatever it was, she went for it. Before she could change her mind. Before the moment passed. Before the flash disappeared.

She leaned in and kissed Becky, full on the lips. The taste of the cocktails they had drank all night was tart on the other woman's mouth, but all Charlotte could feel was fire. She hears Becky whimper a little, and pulls back.

"Your place, then," she says, her voice breathy and soft.

*

Sasha had been right: Charlotte was wound up, and frustrated. She could feel her veins humming as she and Becky walked the short distance back to the Irish woman's place; she could feel her brain buzzing as Becky unlocked her door and led her inside.

Sasha had been right: Charlotte needed this.

But now it seemed like it was Becky who was having second thoughts, Becky who was shifting from one foot to another in her own space. For the place was just that: a space. The bed was in one corner, the sink was in another, and there was a tiny sofa scuttled in another area. Becky wasn't lying when she said she was just visiting; the place screamed of transience.

"Uh," the Irish woman says, then gestures vaguely around her place. "It's not much, but I can crash on the couch and - "

"Becky," Charlotte interrupts, her voice still soft and breathy. "I'm not here to just… crash."

"You're drunk."

"Not  _ that _ drunk," Charlotte says. "I can spell the alphabet backwards, if you like. Or walk in a straight line."

Becky laughs weakly. "I just want you to be sure."

"I am sure." And here Charlotte steps closer to Becky, until there was just a foot separating them. She bites her lips, then steps closer. Now, there is but an inch between their bodies.

Becky nods. She tilts her head up, and gazes into Charlotte's eyes. Blue, or green? In the dark of her apartment she couldn't see quite so clearly. It didn't matter. She took a deep breath, and exhaled. Carefully, she pressed her lips to Charlotte's.

The kiss turns heated, very quickly. Charlotte wraps her arms around Becky's shoulders and drags her closer; now they are pressed together, as close as can be. She kisses Becky deeper, slips her tongue in, and gasps in surprise when Becky pulls back.

"I'm sorry," Becky murmurs. "Are you sure that you --"

She doesn't even bother with words. Charlotte pulls Becky back in and kisses her again; this time, the Irish woman gets the hint. 

Becky jumps up and wraps her leg around Charlotte's waist; they don't stop kissing until they fall into the bed.

*

When Charlotte wakes up the next morning, she has a massive hangover, hickies all over her neck and chest, and a pleasant ache between her thighs. She blushes as she realizes that not only is she still naked; she's also wrapped around the gorgeous brunette from last night's adventure at the local bar.

It takes her all of five minutes to find her clothes and slip them back on. She's putting on her shoes when Becky stirs and stretches, yawning as she sat up.

Charlotte couldn't help it; she stares as the sheets pool around Becky's waist, baring her breasts. She did her own damage last night: the Irish woman's upper body was also peppered with love bites and bruises.

"Morning," Becky rasped out. "Can't stay?"

"Sasha will start posting 'missing' posters around the neighborhood if I don't show up soon," she responds. Charlotte sits on the bed and gives in to temptation one last time. She kisses Becky, slow and languid, and sighs when they part.

"I had fun," she says. "Will I see you again, or …"

"I don't know," Becky admits. "I may have to leave Orlando soon, or I can stay longer. It all depends."

"On what?"

Becky grins, impish. "The dream I'm chasing."

"Ah."

Charlotte smiles back, then stands up. She's tempted to leave her number, but at the same time, she knows how this works. There's absolutely no assurance that Becky will ever call her; she's all but certain that they might not see each other again.

And that's perfectly fine, she tells herself.

Becky is still sitting on the bed when Charlotte reaches for her purse. She doesn't move a muscle as Charlotte walks to the door. When Charlotte raises her hand and waves, she just nods and smiles. When Charlotte closes the door behind her, she falls right back into her pillow, and sighs.

The sheets still smell like her. Becky takes a deeper breath. In a few more moments, she is back asleep. If she dreams, she doesn't remember it.

*

That afternoon Charlotte is back at the gym, forcing her hangover away by wailing on a punching bag. Sasha observes her with some detachment, then shrugs.

"I assume you had fun last night?" she asks.

"How do you assume that?"

Sasha gestures at Charlotte's upper body. "You're wearing a shirt, probably to hide hickeys, but there's some on your throat and collarbone. Also you're kinda walking funny. And your voice is hoarse. Should I continue?"

"No, thank you, that's enough."

"So you did have fun?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And I left in the morning and kissed her goodbye like a good one-night stand would. What else would I do?" Charlotte says.

"Did you even leave her your number or…"

"I… may have chosen not to do that," Charlotte says.

Sasha's jaw dropped. "I don't even have the words to express how stupid that decision was."

"Well,  _ she _ could have chosen to give me her number, okay," Charlotte says defensively. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. It's almost certain she's gonna go back to Ireland in a few days, so I'm almost certainly never gonna see her again."

"Which is a shame, 'cause damn, she must've been good. Look at you," Sasha said, smirking again. "I was right, huh? You needed it?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Sasha."

*

One day pass, and then two. Becky's marks on her begin to fade, and the ache between her thighs lessen. She refuses Sasha's offer to come to the bar again, opting instead to return to her habit of watching old wrestling matches and studying them.

A week passes. All of Becky's marks are gone.

When she enters the PC, she's surprised to find Triple H there, speaking with Matt Bloom and Sara del Rey. They look serious, so she just nods a greeting before heading to the locker room.

Sasha is already there, already in workout gear. Charlotte hurries to change as well; she can already feel her budding rivalry with Sasha, and she refuses to be left behind.

"Fresh meat today," Sasha tells her, with her now trademark smirk.

"Good God, Banks, this isn't a prison," Charlotte replies with a frown.

Bayley, changing on the other side of the room, laughs at their banter. "Relax, Charlotte."

Charlotte huffs in response. "You know who's coming in?"

"Nah."

They file out of the locker room together, and arrive at the open space where their coaches and their bosses are already standing. Most of the other wrestlers are there, too; it takes just a few more seconds before everyone is accounted for, and Triple H takes that as his cue to speak.

"Morning," he says. "Today we're introducing a couple of new wrestlers to the PC. I'm confident that you'll give them a nice, warm welcome, right?" The last part was said with a raised eyebrow and a resigned smile, as if Hunter was already anticipating the inevitable rookie hazing that would occur.

Charlotte claps politely as Triple H introduces three male wrestlers, and claps a little more enthusiastically when he announces that they have also signed a new female wrestler. 

"... used to perform in Europe and Japan before stepping away from the ring for a bit, but she's still one of the best in the business, and she's going to be a crucial member of our women's division, I have no doubt. All the way from Dublin, Miss Becky Lynch."

Charlotte falters mid-clap. She chokes a little on her next breath. Beside her, Sasha and Bayley are nearly crying with laughter.

Becky shakes Triple H's hand, then waves to the wrestlers. She offers a salute to one of the men in front -- Finn Balor. Charlotte decides at that moment that she's going to strangle Finn the next time they run into each other.

Becky's is still scanning the roster, as if she's looking for something -- or someone. Finally, her eyes land on Charlotte, somewhere near the back. She grins, then blows her a kiss.

Charlotte feels the heat rush to her cheeks.

"Never gonna see her again, huh?" Sasha, beside her, says.

"Shut up, Sasha."

*

Five years later, they will talk about that meeting in the bar in Orlando; they will talk about how hesitant Charlotte was to even go out. They will talk about how Becky gave Charlotte an out, in case she changed her mind. They will talk about how Charlotte looked like a deer in the headlights when Becky was introduced at the PC. 

Sasha is an interested observer all throughout. 

"When you write your wedding vows," she says, "I want the both of you to give me some credit. After all, all this --" she points to the two of them -- "wouldn't happen if I hadn't dragged Baby Flair out of the gym and into the bar."

"Eh, I dunno," Becky says, her smile soft. "I like to think I'd met her anyway."

Sasha rolls her eyes. "Hmph. Whatever. I  _ know _ I did this. I deserve all the credit."

Becky and Charlotte exchange a look. Sasha already knows what they're about to say. She smirks, and waits. 

"Shut up, Sasha."

 

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt is as follows: when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more
> 
> I am on Tumblr at rebeccaquinoa.


End file.
